Unsettled
by keru.m
Summary: Something is troubling Mac.


Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Really.

A/N: This is my first fanfic and my first time posting on this site. Any and all criticism welcome. No beta so it's a bit rough around the edges and mistakes are all mine. Oh, and this was inspired in part by TR-Fanfic's 'No Time Left'. I really enjoy stories where Mac and Harm have gotten it together. I should add here that I have not watched every single episode of the show and am probably less well acquainted with the characters than most who will be reading the story.

Unsettled

Mac slowly walked the hallway to her apartment, feeling the weight of the day in her bones. She had been feeling vaguely unsettled of late and today's events had not served to dispel the unease. A simple open-and-shut case had slipped from her grasp due to a break in the chain of evidence. Two impossibly frustrating and time-consuming cases had unceremoniously been thrown on her lap. The first involved a petty officer fresh off the farmstead with the odds stacked against who him refused to take her advice and plead for a reduced sentence, insisting instead that the tape chronicling his attempt at theft was doctored, that his fingerprints were planted at the scene, that the multiple witnesses were mistaken. What was it with the feeling of invincibility that new recruits wore like an aura of privileged right? The soles of his boots weren't even scuffed yet. Much as she tried not to let cases and clients jade her, there were days where she felt more like a failed babysitter than a senior attorney. The other case involved the enlisted son-in-law of a senator who wielded family connections like a scythe, shredding any and all attempts at following due process and, Heaven forbid, the rule of law.Added to this mess were mounds of paperwork, high-flying tempers bordering on hostility, topped with dollops of stress due to a sudden office-wide case of the flu which had left HQ seriously understaffed and, for those unfortunately blessed with strong immune systems, overworked. The frosting on this unappetizing cake came in the form of Harm's absence from the office. In the months preceding his transfer, he had been a stabilizing factor for her. She had told him this before he transferred out, a late night confession she let escape from unguarded lips all the while wondering if she would regret it in the glaring light of day. They both knew she was not one to easily acknowledge her vulnerabilities or to see her dependence, no matter how mutual, as anything but a weakness.

She reached the front door and turned the key in the lock, attempting to dismiss her decidedly unpleasant thoughts with a shake of the head. She dreaded coming home to an empty apartment. Of the few memories of her childhood that she had not shed along with her addiction in the red deserts of Arizona, one was surfacing increasingly from the seldom explored depths of her mind. She wondered if this memory in particular was a way for her mind to deal with the dark cloud that seemed to be following her or whether it was contributing to its presence. She had the habit as a small child, especially on pay days, of hiding in her closet under the marine camouflage blanket her Uncle had given her as a newborn. She would imagine her life as an adult, somewhere with a lot of trees and greenery, in a house warmed by a fire like she would see on television around Christmas time. She could almost block the muffled yells and sharp claps of hand on skin. Almost. She remembered the escape offered by the blackness of the closet and the comfort offered by the blanket. She equally remembered the paralyzing fear and confusion that pushed her into the closet in the first place.

She turned the knob and pushed the door open but stopped in mid-stride, one foot in the threshold and one foot in mid-air, as she heard the soft clink of cutlery and the sound of bubbling pots in the kitchen. The smells of cooking cocooned her as she looked up and saw his tall form moving casually in the space she had occupied, alone, just this morning.

"You're here." A part of her was surprised by his unexpected presence, a larger part was too happy to question it. He turned around and smiled at the sound of her voice.

"The meetings wrapped up ahead of schedule. I caught an earlier flight." Harm's smile faded and his expression turned from the one of playful ease that normally graced his features when he spoke to her, to one of studied contemplation. "Bad day?"

She sighed at the question and the feeling of unease returned. She broke their gaze. "Do I have time to shower?"His expression remained contemplative for an instant before he shrugged it and her question away. "15 minutes," he answered.

She nodded as she made her way to the bedroom; it was more than enough time. He returned to his cooking, all the while watching her slow stride and bowed head from the corner of his eyes. Once she entered the bedroom, he turned his attention back to preparing dinner. She would either tell him in her own time or he would use one of the many methods he had perfected over the years to coax it out of her.

----

She returned, by her unerring count, 14 minutes and 23 seconds later to find the table laid, a vase full of wildflowers by her place setting. Their past would seem to dictate that roses be the flower of choice between them, but he liked to surprise her every so often with bouquets of Arizona desert wildflowers. He would tell her that she was more a desert wildflower – a wild burst of colour against a sparse setting, needing a little rain and a lot more freedom to bloom – than a rose kept in a fenced-in garden. Besides, he would continue to reason as if that complement weren't enough to warm her through to her toes, the two of them were anything but predictable; roses would hardly do them justice.

He set the dish on the table and watched as her gaze fell on the flowers and a small smile lit her face. Just as quickly, her brow creased in a frown. He mirrored her expression, curious as to the reason behind her odd mood. Before he could give any more thought to the matter, she turned her gaze on him and gave him a smile that lit the room. He once again mirrored her expression, this time thinking that he would die content and fulfilled if she would but just look at him like that once a day for the rest of his life. She walked towards him and only stopped when she was a breath away. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned her forehead on his chest. He understood the gesture and raised his hands to rub her back before pulling her against him to secure her in his embrace. He did not, however, understand her need for this kind of comfort."Mac."She did not answer him nor did she acknowledge his ventured attempt at getting some answers beyond offering up a small sigh. Before he could resolve his inner-debate on the merits of calling to her again, she pulled out of his embrace. Rubbing her hand along his arm she stepped around him.

"I'll get us something to drink. Water?"

He nodded and watched her walk towards the kitchen. Now they were getting somewhere.She returned to the table and put a glass of water in front of him as he parceled a dinner of shrimp green curry and rice onto their plates. She looked at him as she seated herself. "Thank you, Harm. I really need this.""Making dinner for you is never a problem, Mac," he said, intentionally misunderstanding her.She raised an eyebrow at his ploy and they smiled affectionately at each other."How were your meetings? Must have gone well if you were able to come home early." She paused thoughtfully as she speared a carrot. "Or," she added, her tone indicating that this scenario sounded more probable, "they went incredibly bad. Any dirty nukes involved?"At least her sense of humour had not abandoned her, he thought. "Meetings were alright. At least insofar as meetings with policymakers and senators can qualify as alright."Senators. She pushed a clump of rice around her plate with a fork, her appetite suddenly abandoning her."I'm guessing your day was less of a success.""Try week," she mumbled. She looked up at him and gave a quick shake of the head to clear her thoughts. She would not ruin dinner, not after he put in all the effort. Truth be told, though, she wanted nothing more than to step back in his embrace and bury herself inside his warmth.

He wished, not for the first time since his transfer, that things could have worked out slightly differently. His current relationship with her, he wouldn't trade for all the riches in this world or the next. However, he would have liked to continue working with her, not just because of the challenge she presented in a courtroom, but because it would have helped him figure out just what was troubling her. Spending the day at the office with her might have given him a starting point for uncovering what was affecting her in this way without the interminable parsing for clues in her words and behaviour. An image of teeth being pulled came to mind. The hardest thing, for him, was to give her the space she seemed to need. It was in his nature to be fiercely protective of those he loved, probably due to the loss he suffered early in life. Growing up, the easiest way to exercise this protectiveness was to take an active role in the lives of those he loved, shielding them, attempting to resolve their problems. This tried and true method, however, had landed him in more than a little hot water with Mac. She saw it as a lack of faith in her. The hardest thing for her, in turn, was to understand his motivations and accept them at face value rather than as an affront to herself or her hard-earned independence.

"The flu still wreaking havoc?" he ventured.

She nodded. "And the Miller case ended in mistrial because of chain of evidence problems. And I got handed one thorny, politically loaded case and another not-so-thorny stupidity loaded case. I feel like an overworked babysitter."

"Who can wield a sniper rifle, kill with her bare hands, and survive for weeks in the wild with only a toothpick and ingenuity. Cake walk for you."

She looked at him, a shadow of a smile on her lips. He returned her smile. She saw the warmth in his eyes, the tenderness in his gaze and her shadow of a smile turned into an unmistakable frown.

"Mac. What else?" he coaxed with what he hoped was an encouraging tone.

She suddenly pushed her chair back from the table, stood and paced impatiently with her arms crossed before plonking herself down on the couch. Harm was getting worried by her uncharacteristic behaviour. Mac rarely, if ever, plonked herself down on anything.

He debated giving her time by clearing the table, but thought to hell with, he'd given her more than enough space. Harm sat down next to her on the couch and faced her. She felt his questioning gaze and could almost feel his restraint. She really wasn't being fair. She scooted next to him and placed a small kiss on his jaw before laying her head on his shoulder. He didn't need more of an invitation and, wrapping his arms around her, Harm pulled her into his lap. She sighed again in what he decided was contentment.

"I miss you," she said so softly he was sure he misunderstood.

"I missed you, too. Sorry I couldn't be more supportive through this hellish week of yours."

"No," she sighed again. "I miss you." So he hadn't misunderstood her. Well, that might have cleared up the verb tense, but he still had no idea what she was talking about. Luckily, she spared him more guesswork by continuing.

"At work. It's not the same without you. I can't..." she trailed off momentarily. "I don't know. I can focus, I can get the job done. Off and on I even enjoy myself. I know I like the work. But once you left..."

It was coming, he could feel it. He tightened his hold on her and placed a kiss on her temple.

"I'd hate to think that you define my work life to the point where I can't recognize it only because you aren't in it. But then I hate to think that..." He felt her tense and wondered not for the first time what she was thinking.

She sighed again. This one was most definitely not of contentment. He wondered how many sighs she had left in her."I keep on remembering my tendency to hide in my closet when I was a kid. With the marine blanket Uncle Matt gave me. You know, to get away from the yelling, the hitting, the crying." He most certainly did not know, and fought the urge to tense up in anger. She rarely, if ever, shared much of the unpleasant memories of her childhood with him. She shared a few of her birthday parties, a little about her parents especially after her dad's death, a lot about all her time spent with Uncle Matt, nothing about her high school years beyond what she told him when they first met and what was revealed during her Article 32. He wouldn't interrupt her admission with his own need to seek out that bastard who called himself her father and pull him out of his grave just so he could have the satisfaction of burying him himself. She was fighting her demons; he wasn't going to add his own windmills to the mix. He did, however, fervently hope that as time passed and their trust in each other grew, she wouldn't be so wary of confiding in him.

"It's not like I'm trying to remember. I'll be drinking coffee in the break room or going over a case file when I'll get that exact same feeling that..." she searched for the words, "something horrible is going to happen and I'd be able to stop it if only I understood." She ducked deeper in his embrace, only to look up at him.  
He recognized the act of courage this was for her.

"I haven't felt this helpless in years, Harm, and I promised myself I never would." Her gaze returned to her clasped hands.

"Only at work?" he asked softly and felt her nod. "Mac," how could he say this the right way, "you think it's because we're not working together? Because I'm not in the same office?" This time, she shrugged."I don't define you. Professionally or personally." She shifted in his embrace. He persevered, "Alright, so it could be one of two things," he paused but received no acknowledgment from her. He wished he could see her face.

"First, we worked together for so long, it's normal that there's a sense of displacement. Add to that the extra work that's piling up due to flu season, us trying to navigate our way through what is the most meaningful relationship that I, at least, have ever been in," he thought he felt her smile against his chest, "and the fact that my level-headed, stable self is not there to ground you," was that a guffaw he heard? Score one for Rabb. "You're forcing a puzzle with mismatched pieces to fit together. Give it time, things will settle. You'll see." He waited a heartbeat to let her absorb his words before continuing, "It's either that or the second option: everything you have achieved ever since you dried out and joined the marines has been rendered absolutely meaningless and worthless because a co-worker –"

"Best friend," she interrupted.

"-and best friend" he amended, "changed jobs and now you only ever see him every morning and evening, on weekends and at least twice a week for lunch. Oh, and you're married to him. So he's still your best friend and madly in love with you, to the point where he skips out on important meetings just to see your face and hear your voice. But he no longer works in the same building as you, under the same boss."

She pulled slightly out of his embrace and rested against the arm of the couch so that she could look at his face. "When you put it that way," she said, somewhat sheepishly, "my fears do seem somewhat unfounded."

He grinned. "You think? Really?"

"Don't push it, Harm," she warned, her eyes dancing with a warmth he'd missed these past few days. He impulsively pulled her into a strong bear hug before letting her go. She chose, however, to stay right where she was.

"Sorry."

"For what?" He was getting familiar with this feeling of confusion; he was on good terms with it just six months into their marriage. Not to mention years into their friendship.

She laughed softly at the expression on his face. "I didn't give you much of a welcome home." Her tone held a hint of flirtatiousness, but she sobered for her next statement, "and I seem to be bringing a lot of insecurities into this marriage, only to lay them at your feet." She stayed where she was and held his gaze, despite her initial instinct to separate herself from him.

He understood, better than most, how her past was something she constantly fought to keep from swallowing whole the person that she strove to be. Contrary to her uncertainty, though, he knew she was on the winning team. She also didn't know that he had silently vowed to himself, when he had spoken aloud the vows of unwavering fidelity and devotion in front of God, their family and friends, that he would do everything in his power to reaffirm her sense of worth at every chance, in every possible way. He didn't think now was the time to share that particular vow with her though, when they were still learning how to give and take, and when to give and when to take...maybe in a few years, when the revelation wouldn't cause him undue bodily harm.

He acknowledged her effort not to pull away from him by smiling at her and tapping her nose with his forefinger. They grinned at each other. She could see that he was trying to formulate a response that would inject some levity into the conversation. She decided that she must have done something right that she could sit here, on Harm's lap, grinning like a kid who'd discovered the biggest worm in the sand pit. And maybe she had...well, maybe she needed to work on that analogy a little bit before sharing it.

She was happy. So instead of waiting for him to formulate an earth-shattering rejoinder, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. And he didn't mind in the least, he did after all, have more important things to occupy his mind for the moment. She suddenly pulled away from what he was seriously considering as a candidate for the most mind-blowing make-out session ever. He fought to pull out of his passion-induced haze and assume the mantle of confusion he somehow knew he should be feeling. He realized that she was watching him with an odd mixture of incredulity, exasperation and – was she blushing?

"What do you mean 'skip out on important meetings'?"

Damn. Score one for Mackenzie.


End file.
